The Morning After
by Elizabeth Fryn
Summary: Chandler's The Big Sleep. Vivian thinks about Phil Marlowe and her family.


"I don't know yet what I'm gonna tell 'em, but it will be pretty close to the truth."

Who is to say your way was right? My sister was- is- a mess and my father- is oblivious. But we brought that down on ourselves, didn't we Mr. Marlowe? Ah, does anything make your eyes water more than hindsight, Phil?

_Kiss me, kill me, love me, leave me,_

_Damn me, dear, but don't deceive me._

-Edith Nesbit.

Who is to say your way is right? But then again, who is to say that anybody's way isn't right. Maybe there is no right and wrong. I tried to do right and only ended up in the wrong. Maybe there's just the best we can do, given the circumstances. This world of ours isn't an easy place in which to do right. We're all so damn far from perfect.

I prayed for Shawn Regan, but I prayed for myself mostly. Now, I don't understand it, but now I find myself praying for the likes of you. Somehow I just feel that you need it.

I know you knew all about me before we met. At the time I thought you were just some shady chump looking for my father's money or something. Yes, I knew about you, just like you knew about me. On a certain level, anyway. And so what if I wasn't too sweet to you when we met that first time- you expected as much. Dad warned you about us girls. As if you didn't already have a hunch. A vice ridden, spoilt filthy, ruthless rich girl. Smarter than my sister. But deep down no better.

"My, you're a mess, aren't you?" Oh, fine, I was insolent to you. But you matched that attitude of mine step for step, bettered it even, looking me over the way you did on top of it all. But I didn't mind. You touched my temper, but I never had a dancing partner quite like you before.

I wanted it all done my way, cleaned up, swept under daddy's expensive rug and never heard of again. I had my reasons, Philip Marlowe. But you know that, I suppose. Who am I kidding, you always seem to know, street smart slime ball that you are. I wanted everything to do with it to go away, sometimes I think that that's what I still want.

But damn you, waltzing into my life at my father's request and my mind at your own leisure, the way you eventually became that permanent part of my life. Whether you leave now or not, I can't erase you the way I tried to erase everything else.

Oh don't you smirk, Mr. Marlowe, I saw you looking. A girl doesn't wear trousers like that and hope for anything else! I tried to use it, like I have one thousand times in the past.

I just never counted on you, a low life- well, sorry…but you of all people, getting under the skin of me, of all people. You made me angry and letting you in that first day was very nearly my undoing. No, Mr. Marlowe, I have never come fully undone. I am too good for that. And I am too smart to think you believe me.

You were meant to be nothing but daddy's employee. You LAUGHED at me. I tried to close that door.

"I'm sure I don't care what you say."

And you, Phil, like a cheap psychic at a fair. How, how did you know? Your sources couldn't have told you how this would pan out.

"You might change you mind about that some day." Did you see my eyes that day, Phil? Did you?

Every story needs a villain, Mr. Marlowe. I think you were the only one who really knew that the villain in our story, stories about people as damn twisted as us, was nobody and everybody at the same time. And yet again, you always knew who was about what. You confuse me Phil, but you intrigued me. And I obviously held some interest to you- blackmail and intrigue and whatnot.

I know you deceived me, left me. I deceived you, left you. But you came back, and somehow even though you're a tough, hard old liar, you always told me what I needed to know.

_When I go away from you_

_The world beats dead_

_Like a slackened drum._

- Amy Lowell

Now nobody ever said that my way was right. But I was used to getting it until you came along. Nobody dared say no to me. Oh, I wasn't my sister, but like I said: no woman wears trousers, or a lack thereof, like that without a certain motivation.

I love to gamble, I always had a fascination with it. I like to pick red on the wheel. It's the colour of blood and secrets. I do love to gamble, and so do you Phil, don't deny it. And you must love the colour of blood too-

I'll never get the picture out of my head, you all bruised and trussed up like an animal. I was used to you being an animal, vulgar, crude. But not all bound up. You were meant to have things your way, freedom to right the wrongs of people like me.

The boys sure did a number on you. You. _You_ even made me forget my damned drink.

I remember when we once had a drink and we danced again, like the first time we met. What a picture the two of us made, so cool as to make the room icy. Something about horses if I recall. I tried to be classy. Did I go the distance, Phil?

Where was I? There you go again, making me forget my damned drink! All I remembered was you. And damn it you knew I would be there. And you knew what you did to me. I am a woman who _knows what she wants_. Confusion…to me you were- to me you are a confusion but I am crystal clear to you. Why are you the only one who always knows what's going on? "Honey", you called me. The way I melted I pretty much was.

I called you Phil then, Phil.

You called me Honey. And then you looked at me so softly. I know it's your way, but damn it! Your way drives me crazy. I was being bribed by Eddie Mars but all I gave a hoot about was you. I was holed up in some middle-of-nowhere house with a bunch of criminals, but you, it was all you.

You looked at me so softly, then you called me a fool. What's the word for a pair of fools?

And Mona walked in but we couldn't see her- I didn't, but I guess she asked you what I'd been asking. Why didn't you just mind your own business?

I should have gone to Mexico, you said. "Blood doesn't spatter that far." And I glared at you and that was it, wasn't it. You're always pushing the buttons. Always either in control of me or aware of my next move, my escape plan. "I know you" you said, and Mona left. I got you a cigarette. It was your way to be honest with me, I know that now, but I wish you had of sugar coated that. The boys would try and kill you, I knew. But to hear you say it made it real. And as if I wasn't already a puppet on your strings, I kissed you.

It wasn't the first time, but oh you weren't unaffected Phil, I know. You tasted like cigarettes and I smelt like whiskey. We were the perfect pair, if you believe in that sort of thing. And I was your puppet from then, whether I admit or not. It took a lot to walk away. And all I could hear was a drumbeat in my head, beating the time of my own funeral march.

_But let not this last wish be in vain;_

_Deceive, deceive me once again._

- Walter Savage Landor

And so we found ourselves again in the awkward sitting room of my father's house, exhausted from the night we'd had, stiff, and ready to blow at any second. But isn't that just like us?

I looked away as you told me what you did. Protected me like you'd tried to protect my stupid, stupid sister…she was just a young fool really. I have to sigh, Phil. It wasn't as easy as that and I know it. I looked at you then because some invisible hand forced me to. I think it belonged to admiration.

But just as quick as it comes with you it goes, and I got scared. Those legs you admire so much? I just wanted to use them to run away. You weren't being polite, you were pushing the damn buttons again.

So I Mr. Marlowed you fair out the door, because there seemed to be little left to say.

And just as quickly it seems, you were Phil again and I was banging down your door looking to save you. For me. It was purely selfish and don't you forget it. I was "baby" this time. Always with the appropriate names. How did you feel abut me then? You compared me to a stick of dynamite.

"Smooth on the outside- but it makes a mess when it goes off." Oh I got it, Mr. Marlowe. So I insulted you right back and then kissed you. You manipulated me that way, once. I was returning the favour. But it didn't work. You caught me out, it was me. I was the bad guy, being pinned by the worse ones.

Slapping and kissing seems to be our language, and I can't say I hate it. You fool, you solved the crime, what else was there? Surely not me? If I hadn't slapped some sense into you by then though, I knew I had little chance of ever doing it. I confessed.

Who were you trying to kid, Phil? Did you lie to me? God, I don't care.

_They all have their exits and their entrances, _

_And one man in his time plays many parts._

- William Shakespeare

You were a mess when you came into my life, Phil Marlowe. I was a mess whenever you left it.

You don't kill people for free, you know.

That's what you told me after Carmen- just 'after Carmen'.

Carmen. I tried to fix it. His family got everything they deserved, even though I did not. And I said a prayer for Shawn Regan. I brought the father out. He blessed him, and I prayed, for me more than Shawn. And now I pray for you, Phil.

You put your hand under my chin and it felt a little like forgiveness. "Let me do the talking angel." You told me what to do and I told you that you'd missed something. Me. "What's wrong with you?" You asked.

Nothing you can't fix.

_The sirens are our serenade, Mr. Marlowe. Cigarette smoke is in the air. They're playing our song. Care to dance?_


End file.
